Читать книгу Engagement of Convenience - Georgie Lee - Страница 11
ОглавлениеChapter Two
The study door swung open, startling Julia, and her pencil slipped, leaving a dark mark across two rows of figures.
‘Yes?’ she answered testily as Davies entered the room.
‘Captain Russell and his guest have arrived.’
Tossing down the pencil, she sat back in the chair, needing just a few more minutes to finish balancing the accounts. ‘They’re early.’
‘I believe they are on time.’
She looked at the windows, finally noticing how the sun and shadows had shifted in the garden and the room. ‘How long have I been working?’
‘All morning, Miss Howard.’
‘Then I’d better hurry and join them or I’ll never know a moment’s peace with Emily.’ Closing the ledger, she stood and started for the door. ‘Though I know Uncle George won’t mind my being late. He isn’t one for formality.’
‘Excuse me, Miss Howard...’ Davies coughed ‘...perhaps a change of dress is advisable.’
She stopped, inspecting the riding habit skirt, her loose hair falling over her face. Bits of leaves stuck to the honey-coloured fabric, making the damp hem noticeable and emphasising the creases along with the habit’s older style. She hardly ever wore this habit, but she’d soiled her better one yesterday by taking Manfred over a fence and through the mud on the other side. Had she seen the puddle, she wouldn’t have jumped him.
‘I’ll never hear the end of it if Emily catches me greeting guests in such a state. Where are they?’
‘The morning room.’
‘Do you think I can sneak upstairs and change before she sees me?’
‘It is quite possible, Miss Howard.’
‘We shall see.’
She hurried from the study and down the corridor. Approaching the entrance hall, she crept over the stone floor to the stairs, listening to Uncle George’s robust laughter followed by the deep tones of the other gentleman in the morning room. The stranger’s voice sounded oddly familiar, but she didn’t dare peek inside for fear of being seen. Stealing past the open door, she turned the corner to slip upstairs, coming face to face with her sister-in-law.
‘What are you doing in your riding habit?’ Emily demanded in hushed tones, her delicate eyes darting nervously to the morning room. ‘And your hair? You can’t welcome your guests looking like a dairy maid.’
‘My guests?’
‘Never mind. We’ll say you were out riding and then you can meet the captain now before Uncle George drags him off for who knows how long.’ Emily pulled her in front of the gilded mirror beneath the stairs and out of sight of the door.
‘Did you say Uncle George’s guest is a captain?’ Julia winced as Emily untangled a small twig from her hair.
‘Yes, Captain Covington.’
‘Uncle George’s friend from Tortuga?’ Julia twisted around to face Emily before her sister-in-law gently spun her back to the mirror, dividing her hair into three sections, then working them into a braid.
‘Yes, I believe so.’
Julia forced down a frustrated sigh. Single gentlemen were a rarity at Knollwood and Julia could practically see Emily’s matchmaking machinations. It was the only explanation for why she insisted on this hurried first meeting. Apparently, she didn’t know as much about Uncle George’s friend as Julia did or she wouldn’t be so excited, or eager to make the introduction. ‘Well, if Captain Covington is to stay with us, I’d better instruct Davies to lock up the brandy.’
‘Captain Covington isn’t that kind of gentleman.’
‘Then I’d better lock up the maids.’
‘Julia!’ Emily stared at her in the mirror, her pale face alight with shock. ‘Young ladies shouldn’t know about such things.’
Thankfully Paul thinks I should. If Emily and Charles ever learned the full extent of what Paul had told her, they’d probably chaperon their every conversation.
Emily smoothed the sturdy wool of Julia’s habit, picking off stray leaves, her hands fluttering while she worked.
‘You received another letter from Charles, didn’t you?’ Julia asked. Emily’s concern for propriety always increased after a letter from her husband.
Emily blushed, pink spreading from her cheeks to her light blonde hair. ‘Am I so obvious?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘It’s only because we want to see you well settled.’
‘No, it’s because Charles thinks I don’t act like a proper lady and such behaviour will cause a scandal and hurt his career in Parliament.’
Emily laid a motherly hand on Julia’s shoulder. ‘Your brother loves you and only wants to see you happy.’
Despite the well-meaning remark, Julia wasn’t ready to concede defeat. ‘I’m happy as I am.’
Emily moved behind Julia, fastening the braid into a small bun at the nape of her neck. ‘I know, but time doesn’t stand still. Some day you may want more.’
‘What about Simon and Annette? They aren’t greeting Uncle George. Why not censure them?’
‘It’s not my place to comment on their conduct.’ Emily frowned and pulled her lips tight. ‘They are both indisposed and will be down later.’
Julia bit back a sharp retort about the two of them always being indisposed when another idea came to mind. ‘Perhaps I can speak to Captain Covington about Paul’s promotion. Maybe he knows someone in the Admiralty who can arrange for Paul to get his own ship. I can’t believe he didn’t receive a command. If I ever find the man who wrote his bad recommendation—’
‘I’m sure your brother is capable of managing his own affairs,’ her mother interrupted, descending the stairs. Her grey eyes took in Julia, neither approving nor disapproving of her attire. Under her arm Charlemagne, her King Charles spaniel, panted, his pink tongue dangling from his mouth. Mother swept into the morning room, her plain dress whispering about her legs, her dark hair flecked with grey pulled neatly into a twist at the back of her head. Julia envied Mother’s refined presence and decorum, wondering how many difficulties she could have avoided if fate had given her even a small portion of Mother’s poise.
Emily, eager to fulfil her duties as hostess and, Julia thought, to fling her in the captain’s path, guided Julia to the morning room. ‘Come along. We’ve kept our guest waiting long enough.’
Inside, Mother exchanged pleasantries with Uncle George and the captain, who stood with his back to Julia.
‘Your lands are some of the best I’ve seen,’ he complimented, the rich, familiar voice vibrating through Julia. She noticed the dark hair curling just above the collar of his uniform and the way the sunlight falling through the window highlighted the deep-red tones.
The stranger! A sudden rush of excitement mixed with fear jolted her and she froze just over the threshold.
‘Are you all right?’ Emily whispered and Julia shook her head, taking a large step back.
‘No, I think I should change.’ He’d seen her riding without a groom. If he mentioned it to Emily, there’d be no end to the reprimands.
‘It’s too late now.’ Emily gripped her arm tight to keep her from fleeing as she motioned to Uncle George.
‘And here is the party responsible for Knollwood’s prosperity.’ Uncle George ushered the captain to them. ‘Captain Covington, Miss Julia Howard.’
If she had thought him handsome in plain hunting clothes, he took her breath away in uniform. The dark coat with the gold epaulettes emphasised his wide shoulders and the powerful presence she had felt in the forest. Without the advantage of Manfred’s height, she had to look up at him. Though not overly tall, he stood a good head above her. The fantasy of being swept into his arms filled her mind once again and she swallowed hard.
‘A pleasure.’ He bowed.
Her eyes travelled the length of him as he straightened. Well-muscled calves stretched his hose tight while slightly looser breeches could not hide his strong thighs and other unmentionable areas. Feeling her cheeks burn, Julia focused on his face as she held out her hand. ‘Captain Covington, welcome to Knollwood.’
He wrapped his fingers lightly around hers, then swept his lips across the bare knuckles. Julia drew in a ragged breath, trying not to tremble. The white-trimmed collar of the coat framed his now clean-shaven face and she curled her fingers slightly around his to stop herself from tracing the smooth line of his jaw.
‘Good morning, Artemis.’ His breath tickled the back of her hand and her body tightened in shock. ‘I assume I am no longer trespassing on your land?’
She leaned closer, inhaling the earthy smell of his lavender shaving soap. ‘That remains to be seen.’
He squeezed her hand, then let go. Julia stepped back, very aware of Emily shifting from foot to foot behind him.
‘Have you two met before?’ Emily asked in a high voice.
‘I had the privilege of encountering Miss Howard while she was riding in the forest this morning,’ Captain Covington explained, oblivious to the trouble he’d just caused.
Julia braced herself for the coming scolding, wishing the captain had held his tongue.
‘You were riding without the groom again?’ Emily asked, the nervous quaver in her voice more irritating than a bur in a boot.
‘No, the groom was with her,’ James lied before Julia could answer. ‘But I’m afraid I failed to properly introduce myself and she mistook me for a poacher.’
Julia gaped at him, surprised he’d lie for her after the way she’d addressed him in the woods.
‘George left no detail untold regarding your management,’ he continued. ‘You have quite an estate. I’m very impressed.’
‘Thank you,’ she faltered, the compliment catching her off guard. Usually gentlemen scoffed at her unusual accomplishment. ‘I’m quite protective of it, as you may have gathered.’
‘Indeed. I’ve never met such a fearsome protector of woodland creatures in all my life.’
‘I’m sure many innocent creatures need protection from Navy men.’
Emily inhaled sharply and Uncle George snorted out a laugh while her mother continued to pet Charlemagne, barely noting the exchange.
The captain’s lips tightened in an attempt to keep from laughing and suddenly Julia regretted her impudent tongue. With all she knew of him from Uncle George’s stories, to fire off such forward remarks, no matter how innocent, might give him the wrong impression and it wasn’t very gracious, especially after he’d lied to help her.
‘Shall we sit down?’ Emily interrupted, nervously studying Julia and the captain.
‘Yes, thank you.’ He allowed Emily to escort him to the sofa and chairs near the window, her mother following close behind.
Julia stayed by the door, hoping she could slip away without Emily noticing. Decorum dictated she stay and entertain the captain, but something about him unnerved her. It was one thing to speak so frankly to family, quite another with a stranger, no matter how well he knew Uncle George. Better to leave now than risk another slip.
‘I see you hiding there.’ Uncle George came up alongside her, thumbs hooked in his jacket lapel.
‘I’m not hiding.’
‘Then come and join us.’
Julia smiled half-heartedly, watching the captain as he answered one of Mother’s questions, his smile steady as he spoke. Whatever the captain thought of her unconventional behaviour, he’d already forgotten it. Deep down, some part of her wanted him to notice her, the way he had in the woods. As if sensing her, he shifted in the chair, meeting her eyes, and she turned to Uncle George.
‘No, I have business to attend to.’
‘Leave it for later. I think you’ll enjoy the captain. You two already have quite the rapport.’ He tugged her ear playfully, the way he’d done since she was a child.
The friendly gesture usually made her smile. Today it increased the irritation chewing at her. ‘My work can’t wait.’
‘If you insist. But you can’t hide at Knollwood for ever. Eventually, you’ll have to get out in the world and live.’
‘I’m not hiding,’ Julia protested.
‘Of course not. Silly of me to say it.’ He patted her arm. ‘Go back to the study. I’ll make your excuses.’
Julia left, pausing a moment to listen to the muffled voices, suddenly feeling very alone. Walking through the back sitting room, she took in the sturdy walls of Knollwood covered in hunting prints and old portraits of well-dressed ancestors. Here she felt safe and, when not entertaining guests, confident in herself. Anywhere else she felt awkward and unsettled. What would happen if Charles took this away from her?
She slipped out of the French doors and crossed the garden to the far corner where the tall boxwood hedges hid her from the house. At the centre of this private courtyard stood a fountain of a man and woman locked in a passionate kiss, a copy of some nameless Greek statue. It had been a gift to their father from Paul after his first visit to Greece. Having no use for the statue in the house, her father had it made into a fountain, scandalising Charles, who insisted on hiding it in this secluded corner.
Julia plunked down on the stone bench in front of the fountain, watching the water run over the naked marble bodies. The polished stone glistened in the noon sun, intensifying the urgency of the lovers’ embrace. The man’s fingers dug into the hard flesh of the woman’s thigh, his hands entwined in her hair as she pressed her naked form against his. Her long, gracefully carved fingers rested against the taut muscles of the male’s well-chiselled back. Studying the lovers’ embrace, their bodies so close not even water could separate them, Julia felt her chest constrict. What would it be like to inspire such passion in a man?
Picking up a small stone, she flung it into the pool at the base of the fountain, sending a large splash up and over the side. Reaching down for another rock, she heard the pitter-patter of paws on gravel as Charlemagne barrelled down on her. The small dog threw his front paws up on her knees, his wagging tail shaking his whole body as Julia stroked his soft fur.
‘I thought I’d find you here,’ her mother said, scooping up Charlemagne and sitting down next to her.
‘Did Emily send you here to chastise me for not being a perfect lady?’
‘Emily is a sweet girl, good for Charles and I adore her,’ her mother remarked, settling the wiggling dog on her lap. ‘But I seldom listen to her advice or Charles’s. I suggest you do the same.’
‘I’ve tried, but it only makes them more persistent.’
‘Yes, he takes after your grandfather in that regard.’ Charlemagne refused to be still and Mother put him on the ground. ‘You’re worried about Charles taking over Knollwood, aren’t you?’
Like Uncle George, Mother could be very direct and Julia found it both helpful and at times hindering. She watched Charlemagne sniff around the fountain, jumping back when an errant bead of water landed on his nose.
‘When he does, what will I do?’ Julia choked, digging the toe of her boot into the ground.
‘I think you’ll find something. You’re much more resourceful than either Charles or Paul.’
‘But what else could there possibly be for me?’
Her mother took Julia’s face in her hands, pushing a strand of hair off of her cheek. ‘That’s up to you to discover.’
She kissed Julia’s forehead, then rose, snapping her fingers at Charlemagne.
‘Do I hide from the world here?’ Julia asked before her mother could leave.
‘Who put such an idea in your head?’
‘Uncle George.’
The older woman laughed softly. ‘Since when do you take my brother seriously?’
Julia shrugged. ‘Emily and Charles are always saying it, in their own way.’
‘I think only you know the answer.’ She strolled out of the garden, Charlemagne close on her heels.
* * *
The quick click of a lady’s perturbed step drew James to the morning-room door. Miss Howard strode into the entrance hall, moving like a tempest, oblivious to everything but her own energy. Fascinated, he wanted to draw her out, but hesitated. Better to let her go than risk the blunt blow of her dark mood. However, something in the troubled frown on her pretty face prompted him to speak.
‘Miss Howard?’
The stomping girl vanished, replaced by an awkward young woman conscious of the world around her. ‘Yes?’
She stood on the bottom stair, one small hand on the oak banister, poised like a doe to flee. He wondered what had happened to make such an exuberant creature so timid. ‘I want to apologise for this morning. You took me quite by surprise.’
‘Yes, I imagine I did.’ She moved to leave, but he wasn’t ready to let her go.
‘I don’t usually meet young ladies in the forest so early in the morning.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me who you were?’ she demanded with startling directness.
‘You didn’t ask,’ he laughed, his mirth evaporating under her stern glare. ‘Allow me to apologise. I should have introduced myself.’ He offered a humble bow, but it did not soften the small crease marring her smooth brow.
‘I wish you had for it might have saved us both a great deal of trouble.’
‘I shall endeavour to be more agreeable to you the next time we meet in a forest.’ The image of them alone among the trees, her hair loose about her naked shoulders, their bodies entwined came to mind. His hand itched to reach up and trace the gentle curve of her cheek, slip his fingers behind her long neck and draw her close.
‘There will be no next time,’ she corrected, ending the pleasant fantasy.
‘I think it quite possible,’ he teased. ‘Judging by this morning, I assume it is your habit to ride out alone in the mornings.’
‘Shh.’ She stepped closer, waving a silencing hand and filling the air between them with the faint scent of rosemary.
‘Your mother doesn’t approve of you riding alone?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘Mother doesn’t care, but Emily does.’ She stepped off the stair and stood in front of him, her face softening. ‘Thank you for not telling her you saw me riding without a groom. You spared me a great deal of trouble.’
‘It was my pleasure, and I’ll gladly do it again if the need arises.’
‘I hope it doesn’t come to that.’ She smiled, her face glowing with amusement.
‘You’re very pretty when you smile,’ he offered without thinking, amazed at how much her pleasure delighted him.
Her smile disappeared and she raised one disbelieving eyebrow. Something of the confident Artemis he’d seen this morning flashed in her hazel eyes, rousing his blood.
‘I know the country is lacking in diversions, but do not think to amuse yourself with me.’
James straightened, forgetting his desire. He should have been insulted, but he could hardly blame her for saying what he’d momentarily imagined. ‘You misunderstood my meaning. I have never, would never behave as you intimate.’
She fixed him with the same scrutinising look he once used on seamen when they told him a tall tale to cover their misdeeds. ‘I am not naïve, Captain. My brother and uncle tell me everything, so I know what Navy men are about.’
‘Do you?’ He struggled to keep the laughter out of his voice, still unable to believe a young woman with her hair pulled back like a dour nun could be so forward. He leaned against the wooden banister, bringing their faces much closer than intended. She did not step back. ‘I may have to change your opinion of Navy men.’
‘I’m afraid you have only worked to confirm it.’
Her saucy eyes teased him. Were this Tortuga, he would have covered her full mouth with his, allowed his fingers to free her hair from the bun as he pulled her close to kiss away the wry smile dancing about her lips. However, his good breeding, not to mention his status as George’s guest, prevented such a blatant breach of etiquette.
* * *
‘Julia!’ Emily appeared at the morning-room door. Julia stepped back, her cheeks burning, awkwardness replacing her courage. Silently, she cursed her impetuous nature, wondering what it was about the captain that kept causing her to forget herself. A few minutes in the gentleman’s presence and she was once again acting like a strumpet instead of a lady. How much had Emily heard? Hopefully nothing or she and Charles would feel vindicated in all their chastising.
Before anyone could say anything, baby Thomas’s wail filled the upstairs hallway and the nurse appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying the infant. He was only two months old, but he’d been born early and Emily fretted over him like no other well-born mother in the county.
‘Mrs Howard, it is time for his feeding,’ the nurse called over the screaming baby.
Emily glanced from the captain to Julia to upstairs, weighing her desire to reprimand with the need to see to her child. Luckily, Thomas’s cries grew louder, making the decision for her.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I must attend to my son.’ Emily shot Julia a silent warning before hurrying up to escort the nurse to the nursery. For all of Charles’s and Emily’s priggishness, they were firm believers in Rousseau’s ideas of breastfeeding. It was one of the few things Julia admired them for.
‘Despite being born two months early, my nephew has a healthy appetite and powerful lungs,’ Julia observed.
‘His lungs will serve him well if he enters Parliament. Like his father, his opinions will always be heard,’ Captain Covington teased.
Julia laughed, the captain’s joke putting her at ease. She was about to respond when a small cough from the landing interrupted them.
‘Good morning, Captain Covington.’ Annette glided down the stairs, her blue eyes raking over him. Dressed in a fashionable walking dress of expensive yellow silk, she stepped in between Julia and the captain. Her haughty air irked Julia and she clasped her hands together to keep from smacking the chit on the back of her elegantly coiffed blonde head. Though they were the same age, they had nothing in common and had never been more than civil to each other since Annette’s arrival.
‘Miss Taylor, a pleasure to see you again.’ The captain bowed over her extended hand, the relaxed Navy man from a moment before replaced by a proper gentleman.
Julia noted the change and her heart sank. Obviously, he respected the polished manners of a London lady to the questionable conduct of a country girl.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Neither of them will be here for ever.
‘How are your dear sister and mother?’ Annette asked, her voice light and charming.
‘My sister Charlotte is in Wiltshire with her husband. My mother is with them at the moment, though she returns to town next week. She prefers London to the country.’
‘Who of us doesn’t?’ Simon yawned from the top of the stairs, his voice heavy with the Devonshire lisp so popular in town. Tall and lean, Simon wore a suit of the finest material cut tight to accentuate his slender body. He possessed the same sharp features as his sister, but the affected boredom of his dandified style softened them considerably.
Annette’s face reddened at Simon’s remark. ‘You remember my brother?’
‘Of course.’ Both men nodded to one another, no affection lost on either side.
‘We are going to the local town. Please join us for I’m eager for some society after such isolation.’
‘Did I hear someone suggest a ride into Daringford?’ Uncle George asked, coming up behind the captain.
‘Yes. Care to join us?’ Captain Covington invited.
While they made their plans, Julia started up the stairs, sure no one would notice her absence. They had each other; they did not need her. She froze when the captain called out to her.
‘Miss Howard, would you like to join us?’
Surveying the waiting group, Julia wondered how much more of his company she could endure without gaining a reputation as a hoyden. Until she could learn to control her tongue in his presence, it was probably better to avoid him. She moved to make her excuses when Annette’s condescending sweep of Julia’s riding habit changed her mind. ‘Yes, but allow me to change. I’ll only be a moment.’
‘Your dress is passable. Come and let’s be off,’ Uncle George impatiently called.
Julia reluctantly stepped off the stairs. Emily would have a fit if she knew Julia wore her old riding habit into town. Oh, well, what was one more reprimand? Besides, it was worth the rebuke to annoy Annette.
‘Come, Captain Covington.’ Annette motioned for his arm and like a true gentleman he offered it, leading her outside to the waiting carriage. Julia watched the way her stepcousin moved, the rich material and fine cut of her dress emphasising her willowy figure. A slight twinge of jealousy took hold and Julia wondered if things would be different if she made an effort to dress so well every day or demonstrate proper, genteel manners.
‘My lady.’ Uncle George offered her his arm with an exaggerated flourish.
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she answered with equally false formality.
‘What do you think of the captain?’ he asked in a low voice as they strolled out to the waiting carriage.
‘He strikes me as quite the man about town. He’s already caught Annette’s attention.’
‘Any man with a pocketbook catches her fancy,’ George huffed. ‘You shouldn’t let her have him.’
‘I have no interest in a Navy man, especially one with a thin London polish.’
‘He’s no Simon, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s rich, too. Thanks, I might say, in part to many of my lucrative schemes.’
Julia suppressed a laugh, knowing how proud Uncle George was of the numerous profitable ventures he’d embarked on during his time in the Navy. ‘Why did the captain resign?’
‘George, stop gossiping and get in,’ Captain Covington interrupted from beside the open carriage door. ‘No need to give away all my secrets on the first day.’
‘Not possible, Jim. You’ve got too many.’ Uncle George chuckled.
‘May I?’ Captain Covington held out his hand, a playful smile lighting up his face. Julia reached for his upturned palm, hesitating a moment before pushing against the strength of it to step up into the carriage.
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t dare meet his eyes, but slid across the squabs and settled in next to the far window, her hand still tingling from his touch. Uncle George sat beside her in an attempt to place some distance between her, Annette and Simon and she was grateful. The captain took a seat across from them, next to Annette, much to the chit’s visible delight.
Simon paused to adjust his cravat, then carefully climbed into the carriage, moving like an old lady to avoid wrinkling his morning coat. The door closed behind him, but Simon wasn’t fully seated when Uncle George rapped on the roof. The vehicle sprung into motion, throwing Simon into the seat next to his sister.
‘I say,’ Simon complained to George.
‘Sorry about that.’ George shrugged, unruffled by Simon’s outburst.
‘Men can be so silly, don’t you agree, Captain Covington?’ Annette laughed, reprimanding her brother with a look he pointedly ignored.
‘Yes, they can be.’ The captain allowed the conversation to drop, watching the countryside pass by outside the window, a strange melancholy clouding his face. Julia noted the way the afternoon sunlight spread over his features, highlighting a very small scar on his cheek and giving him a bit of mystery and depth she’d never seen in any London gentleman. Then his eyes darted to hers and she turned away, her heart fluttering, the heat in the carriage rising sharply.
What’s wrong with me? she wondered, touching the warm skin of her neck. It wasn’t like her to act so hen-witted in the company of a man, especially a Navy rake like the captain. Struggling to regain control, she concentrated on the river flowing in the gully below the road. No matter how much she focused on the clear water pouring over the rocks, the captain lingered on the edge of her vision. When she dared to look at him again, she found him still smiling at her.
‘Captain Covington, were you at Lady Wellsingham’s ball last month?’ Annette asked.
‘No, I’m afraid business kept me away,’ he answered with a slight frown before covering it with a gracious smile.
Perhaps he’s not so taken by London charms, Julia mused, sitting back to observe the conversation with a new interest.
‘What a pity. You would have enjoyed it. All anyone could talk about was Lord Langston’s comment on Napoleon. He said the Emperor’s coat was too tight to suit a real gentleman, and if the Emperor had a better tailor, he might not be so fond of war.’
‘I thought politics a taboo subject at balls?’ Julia asked, more to annoy her stepcousin than out of any real interest.
‘We were discussing Lord Langston’s comment, not politics,’ Annette arrogantly clarified. ‘Surely you’ve heard of the earl, even here?’
Julia bit back a sharp retort, struggling through gritted teeth to remain cordial.
‘Yes. Charles keeps me abreast of the latest London news, though I pay it no mind. I hardly feel the comments of a man who thinks only of clothes and dancing is worth the breath to spread it. Were he a man of actual accomplishments, such as Lord Nelson, I might take more interest in what he has to say.’
‘Here, here, Julia.’ George slapped his knee and Annette pursed her thin lips.
‘Sounds like a rather American idea to me, Miss Howard,’ Captain Covington asked.
‘Have you been to America, Captain?’ Julia asked.
‘Yes, it’s an interesting country.’
‘I don’t agree with the Americans. The French followed their example and all their patriotism and liberty turned out dreadful,’ Annette interjected, but both Julia and Captain Covington ignored the remark.
‘I’m a great admirer of Mr Jefferson. Are you familiar with his agricultural inventions?’ Julia asked.
‘Yes, I read one of his books while I was in London. I read quite a number of books while I was at home.’ He paused, watching his left hand open and close before he looked up at her again. ‘I don’t recall the specific of Mr Jefferson’s designs, but I remember them being quite innovative.’
‘He devised a plough specifically for hills. It’s proved most beneficial to Knollwood,’ she volunteered, encouraged by his response. ‘Like Mr Jefferson, I’ve discovered the best way to develop new techniques is to ask the workers. I regularly speak with mine to keep abreast of their progress and any potential problems.’
‘How plebian to be so familiar with your servants,’ Annette sneered.
Julia went silent, the conspicuous difference between her and her London cousin making her self-conscious.
‘I agree, Miss Howard, servants are often aware of more than their employers realise,’ the captain offered with a smile.
‘Indeed, they know the land and conditions better than anyone else.’
Careful not to gloat over the obvious check to Annette’s mocking remark, Julia continued her discussion of agriculture, encouraged by the captain’s extensive knowledge. The bulk of it came from books, but he asked many questions about the practical application, eager to learn. While they spoke, Julia watched the way Annette hung on his every word, fluttering her eyelashes at him while praising his wit and intelligence. Each compliment brought a smile to his face and as much as Julia’s opinion of him rose with their current discussion, his apparent infatuation with Annette lowered it. Perhaps the captain thought her cousin a better country amusement than Julia. After all, the way Annette fawned on him made her interest apparent. How typical of a man to fall prey to such a shallow woman.
* * *
The carriage rattled into town, coming to a stop near the centre of the High Street. James stepped out into the crisp autumn air and took a deep breath. Being confined for so long next to Miss Taylor reminded him of a tight gun deck on a humid day in the islands. Only Miss Howard’s airy voice and sparkling eyes offered any respite from Miss Taylor’s cloying company.
‘What an exile,’ Mr Taylor sighed, taking in Daringford’s dusty streets lined with shops. ‘I’ll return shortly.’
‘I thought you were going to stay with me?’ Miss Taylor whined as James handed her out of the carriage.
Mr Taylor ignored her, strolling off towards the Sign of the Swan tavern, much to his sister’s visible displeasure.
James turned back to the carriage to help Miss Howard out, only to see her alight from the other side before hurrying around to join them.
‘I’m afraid I must leave you as well,’ George announced. ‘I have some business to attend to with my solicitor. Take good care of the ladies, Jim.’ He went off in the opposite direction, leaving James alone with Miss Taylor and Miss Howard.
‘Well, ladies, where shall we go?’
‘The milliner’s shop,’ Miss Taylor decided. ‘I must purchase some lace, though I doubt it will be of the same quality here as in London.’
‘The milliner it is, unless Miss Howard has somewhere she wishes to go?’
Miss Howard shook her head. ‘No, I’m simply here for the diversion.’
‘One could hardly call this place a diversion.’ Miss Taylor made for the row of shops lining the north side of the street, stepping gingerly around the dirt and mud.
‘I suppose we must follow.’ Miss Howard sighed.
‘I suppose we must.’
Their progress across the square was slow, with Miss Howard stopping more than once to speak to some farmers’ wives. He stood by while they conversed, noting how she addressed the women without arrogance or conceit. There were no signs of her former awkwardness and he thought it strange she should get along so well with these women, yet seem utterly out of place with people like the Taylors. It baffled him, but he enjoyed it, her friendly attitude a refreshing change from rigid London ways.
When they finally reached the milliner shop, James held open the door, then followed her inside. ‘Do you come to the village often?’
‘Yes, it seems I am always purchasing necessities for Knollwood.’
Miss Taylor ignored them in favour of the shopkeeper who hustled to help the London girl spend her blunt. Miss Howard did not shop, but loitered with him near the front window, as out of place here as Miss Taylor would be among estate labourers.
‘You have no interest in lace?’ James asked.
‘I’ve come to town in my riding habit. I assure you, I have no interest in lace.’
He noted the older cut of the habit with its lower waist and fitted bodice. The style skimmed her flat stomach and accentuated her curved hips. He preferred the form-flattering shape to the high-waisted style dominating Rotten Row. ‘I like your dress.’
‘Do you?’
He heard disbelief in the question, but also a note of hope. ‘I do.’
She played with a small piece of ribbon dangling off the table next to her, then nodded at Miss Taylor, who stood at the counter negotiating with the shopkeeper over the price. ‘She certainly drives a hard bargain. I’m amazed she bothers to be so economical.’
‘Perhaps her situation is not what it seems.’
Miss Howard’s puzzled face indicated her ignorance of the London rumours regarding the Taylors. However, before she could respond, a round matron followed by a blonde young lady with similar full features entered the store.
‘Miss Howard,’ the older woman called out, crossing to where they stood. ‘What a pleasure to see you in here. I didn’t think you one for the milliner’s shop.’
Miss Howard’s lips drew tight and James’s ire rose at the belittling way the matron’s eyes swept over Miss Howard, making her flush with embarrassment.
‘Mrs Johnson, may I introduce Captain Covington.’ Miss Howard motioned to him. ‘He is a friend of my uncle and staying with us. Captain Covington, this is Mrs Johnson and her daughter, Miss Caroline Johnson.’
The two ladies curtsied to James, sizing up his value as a potential husband.
He bowed, unwilling to remain here or give this woman another chance to insult Miss Howard. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we were just about to step outside and leave you lovely women to your shopping.’
He offered Miss Howard his arm. She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and flashed the disbelieving Mrs and Miss Johnson a wide smile as he escorted her out of the shop.
‘I see some mamas are as rude here as they are in London,’ James fumed once they were outside. ‘What did she hope to gain by being condescending to you?’
‘I don’t know, but please pay it no mind. I’m quite used to it.’ Miss Howard withdrew her hand and placed a respectable distance between them. He brushed his fingers over the spot where she’d held his arm, missing the soft weight of her touch.
‘You should make a habit of responding to rude people,’ James suggested.
‘Why? Emily and Charles would only hear of it, then chastise me for being ill mannered. It seems I must be civil to everyone while everyone may speak to me as they please.’
‘There are many ways to appear courteous, yet still strike a cutting blow.’
‘Then you must teach me some for I’m tired of putting up with such nonsense.’ She laughed, the charming sound carrying over the noisy rattle of equipage in the street.
‘It would be my pleasure. What sort of remark would you like to learn first?’
‘James Covington,’ the long-forgotten but familiar female voice called out from behind them, slicing through him like a sword and shattering his jovial mood. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
He turned, watching Melinda Knight saunter up the street, a wicked smile decorating her full lips. A low-cut gown showed off her ample white bosom, much to the appreciation of the passing village men. Many paused to admire her, elbowing one another as their lecherous eyes enjoyed the well-displayed assets. They obviously deemed her a beauty, but James, who’d known her in his youth, saw the toll London indulgence had taken. Her dark-brown eyes seemed tired and dull while her once slender form had grown more stout, filling out her face and keeping away, for a few more years at least, the lines forming about her eyes and the corners of her lips.
‘Miss Knight,’ he greeted through clenched teeth.
‘I’m Mrs Wilkins now, or have you forgotten?’
James’s lip curled in loathing. ‘So you married him?’
‘Is that any way to greet an old friend?’ Her seductive voice had once heated his blood; now it left him icy with disgust.
‘I would hardly call us friends.’
She wedged herself between him and Miss Howard, her bosom brushing his chest. ‘At one time you called me a great deal more.’
‘That was a long time ago.’ He stepped back, fighting the urge to push her away. The reaction unnerved him. He thought he’d forgotten her treachery years ago. Taking control of his surging emotions, he turned to Miss Howard, noting her stunned expression. ‘May I introduce Miss Howard of Knollwood.’
Melinda faced Julia, taking her in and dismissing her all at once. ‘We already know one another. My husband owns Cable Grange. My, what a pretty riding habit. Did you ride here?’
‘No,’ Miss Howard retorted, her dislike of Melinda palpable.
‘Must be the new fashion. I find it so hard to keep up. You country girls have such different tastes.’
Melinda laid a gloved hand on James’s arm and he pulled away, leaving her fingers hanging like talons before she lowered them. Far from being embarrassed, she seemed to take pleasure in his revulsion. ‘You should come and visit us, James. I know Rowan would love to see you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going.’
She swept off down the street, collecting more appreciative stares as she went.
‘You know her?’ Miss Howard gasped.
‘I knew her once, a long time ago. It’s of no importance.’ He wondered how best to correct whatever false impression his acquaintance with Melinda left. He refused to be judged by a past mistake, but no proper explanation came to mind.
‘Here comes George.’ James motioned over her shoulder, thankful for the distraction.
George rushed along the road, the light of delicious news in his eyes.
‘I can tell by the way he’s hurrying, he’s heard gossip,’ Julia observed. ‘He enjoys a story more than any old matron in Daringford.’
James laughed at the candid and accurate description. ‘It is good to know some things haven’t changed.’
‘Julia, you won’t believe what my solicitor told me,’ George blurted out between winded pants when he reached them. ‘Cable Grange is to be sold at auction in ten days if Mr Wilkins can’t pay his London creditors.’
